Library Cards
by Forbaernan
Summary: It began as a library card correspondence.


_Written for The Heart Of Camelot Valentine's Day Challenge #3_

_Beta'd by jaqtkd._

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I met you before you knew me. I hadn't thought I'd seen you before then, before you moved into our little village in the woods. But those dreams keep coming back to me, the ones I whispered to you when you were sleeping in that neat white bed and I know that we existed.

You were in the library fumbling through papers when I first saw you, and your earrings and eyes sparkled in the morning's soft light. Emeralds you chose to wear - they match your lovely eyes. One of those old-fashioned library book cards fell onto the wooden floor and I politely picked it up and hurriedly scrawled a little note onto the card before giving returning it to you. Later at home, I imagined you discovering my message and a warm smile spreading across your lovely face and lighting up your beautiful eyes.

It was a silly idea, perhaps a bit childish, but the next day, much to my surprise, the same book was on my doorstep. I don't know how you knew my address, but that didn't matter because, on the card, in your delicate handwriting (written in your signature blue pen with a flourish to the g) was a message from you.

You don't know how excited I was whenever you returned my note the next day. I have to admit – I once thought about staying up to see you, but I decided against it. And I didn't know where you got all those book cards, but I've found them in a hidden aisle in a little shop not far from our village.

I often saw you in the library; you always seemed to be in one of those adventured aisles. Once I saw you with a man. You looked like you had been together a long time, you and the blond, and so my note card responses became a bit stiff and I visited the library a little less frequently.

That was until I learned he was your brother.

Shortly thereafter, you sent me a book card with your address and my heart leapt with joy. Of course you lived in that small cottage on the hill with the long, twisting driveway. It makes me think of your long, twisting locks running down your back.

I also enjoyed meeting Eglantine. She was a beautiful filly and was quite happy whenever I brought Cathum over. A week ago, she had a nasty fall beside her favorite place near the pond; she's in a better place now. Cathum is confused by her absence, but I just rub his muzzle and tell him everything's alright.

I saw you everywhere, but you didn't always notice me. One time I was in the supermarket, peeking though a small hole between tall stacks of soup and you looked sad. I don't like it when you're sad. You shouldn't be sad now.

You visited the library and the post office and the supermarket less frequently and I didn't understand why. The occasional times I saw you, you were distant. I felt your uneasiness and those bags do not belong below your lively eyes. I didn't know what had changed and I thought it was my fault, so I sent you a book card apology. You didn't respond and I worried even more.

That's when Arthur called me and took me to see you in that neat, white bed. Your hair was gone and I didn't understand what the doctor told me; perhaps I didn't want to understand. But you're beautiful; you are _my_ beautiful.

_I love you_

We'd barely gotten to know each other, and somehow I feel that it's all my fault.

I still have those dreams but they're not as hazy as they used to be. There's this one image that is especially powerful of you lying in my arms in a grand castle. We're in a throne room and you're wearing a long, velvety green dress. You're gasping for air and I'm holding you. I'm crying.

I've bought several library cards and I still put them on my doorstep. I don't mind that my messages are never returned, because I now understand the reason why. It's the thought that counts, the anticipation, the highlight of my week. I still imagine your warm smile, your lovely eyes laughing and curly black locks bouncing as you read my little notes.

I have decided what to do. I will compile our letters into a book and dedicate it to you, my love. Then I'll send it to my heart.

Yours Always,

Merlin


End file.
